There's A First Time For Everything…
by Naranne
Summary: …And Then There's Brock. ;; A series of snapshots taken throughout the lives of Brock Harrison and Misty Waterflower. Meme fill. Gymshipping. Slight mentions of other pairings.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Another meme fill. I can feel you judging me from here. Stop it.

Anyway, this gets shippier later on, I promise. The rating may go up in later chapters, as well, although it may only go to a strong T/PG-13 (or a light R, depending on the rating system you're using).

**Disclaimer: **If you recognise it, I'm willing to bet a lot of money that it doesn't belong to me. The plot bunny does, however.

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**Prologue: Of Trust and Crushes**

_by Naranne_

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The first time she confided in him, Misty was thirteen.

Brock was eighteen, and at that point had known both Misty and Ash for quite a while. He had travelled with them all over, seeing them through thick and thin. Quietly, he had observed from the sidelines as they grew up and entered their teenage years, their fights taking on a slightly new edge as emotion other than anger broke into the scene.

That night, after they had chosen a site to rest, Ash left on Brock's orders (issued around a fond smile and a roll of the eyes) to collect firewood, Pikachu bouncing along beside him despite the trainer's mild grumblings. Brock chuckled, and began setting out both ingredients and pans for the night's meal, as the air turned cooler and the light dimmed. Misty and Ash had fought earlier that day; it had been a particularly heated fight, even for them. When Brock and Pikachu had forced them to quiet down, Misty had the sheen of tears in her eyes, and Ash's cheeks had flushed red with anger. A wary truce had been reached, but tension had crackled in the air until Ash had left, Misty lying belly down on the grass, entertaining Togepi with light hearted games.

The easy smile that graced her features was reassuring for Brock to see, but he could tell that even so, she was hurting underneath.

Tentatively, he had set aside his preparations, and settled himself on the ground beside her. Ash had been gone a while, and Brock privately thought that he would be a while longer. Concern for his friend battled with extreme wariness of her fiery temper, and for a moment Brock simply watched Togepi's antics, unable to help small bursts of laughter at the baby pokémon's adorable nature. The silence was comfortable, easy, and relaxing, and Brock had the fleeting thought that he'd never really spent much time with Misty – there was always Ash around – and he resolved to rectify this.

When she broke the silence with a sigh, he braced himself for the possible onslaught, and asked cautiously, "Everything alright, Misty?"

"I'm fine!" she snapped almost immediately. Brock nodded, wincing slightly, and stood up to leave the girl to her thoughts. Togepi trilled worriedly, and Brock smiled at the pokémon, hoping to project calmness. As he took a step back toward his bags, however, Misty sighed again, and mumbled, "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap."

Brock paused. "It's alright," he said reassuringly. "Do you want to talk about it? The fight, I mean." Not what usually happened, he knew, but if he were perfectly honest with himself, he was sick to death of their bickering. If he could help ease the way towards a calmer atmosphere, he certainly would.

"He's just so frustrating!" Misty snarled, and Brock took that as a cue to sit back down beside her.

Misty needed no prompting – it poured out in a fiery torrent, all the things he did to irritate her, how stupid, how dense, how idiotic, how uncaring (Brock thought that one was a little unfair – he was sure that Ash did care about her, even though they fought), how blatantly ignorant he was, how he didn't understand her. Halfway through her rant, Brock was positive they were no longer talking about the fight, but about something which underlay all of it, and perhaps fuelled it.

She trailed off, maybe realising she'd said too much, and tugged at her ponytail irritably, idly gathering Togepi close to her with the other hand. A vibrant blush stained her cheeks. "You're only young, both of you," Brock ventured gently. Misty made a face and stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed, despite himself. "Very mature."

Misty giggled, and then sobered. She looked at the ground, suddenly finding the grass very interesting. "He'll never notice me," she mumbled. "Scrawny, tomboy, angry, right? Those aren't the things that guys like."

"Hey," Brock objected, feeling that this was highly unfair. "Not all guys are like that."

"Hypocrite," Misty shot back, laughing. Brock grinned sheepishly.

"I don't know those girls," he pointed out. "If I did, it wouldn't matter what they looked like. And I don't think you're scrawny." Misty looked highly sceptical. "I see it with my sisters," he explained. "You're still only thirteen, so you've still got somewhat of a kid physique – don't look at me like that, it's true. You do a lot of exercise; you've got a fast metabolism and a slim build, so you won't be anything _but _really skinny. You're comparing yourself to your sisters, who are older and whose bodies have matured."

Very quietly, Misty murmured, "Doesn't change what Ash feels."

"It doesn't," Brock agreed. Misty sighed and rested her cheek on one hand. "Ash is an idiot if he refuses to see what he's got right in front of him, though."

She brightened. "You really think so?"

Brock smiled, and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know so. Don't try and grow up too fast, Misty."

Misty gave him a small smile in return, and looked reassured, if a little jibed by all the age related comments. "Thanks, Brock," she said softly.

"No problem." Brock squeezed her shoulder once before standing up, happy that Misty evidently trusted him enough to confide so much to him.

Ash returned shortly after, but by then, Brock was waiting idly for him to return so he could start cooking, and Misty had resumed playing with Togepi.

Despite himself, Brock found it hard to stifle a snort at the way Misty quickly assumed her "I am angry and annoyed and if you come any closer it will be the death of you" expression the moment she saw the other trainer. Brock started the fire, and shortly after the smell of the evening meal had wafted towards him, Ash's stomach gave a loud growl, eliciting a quickly disguised laugh from Misty. Ash grinned sheepishly, covering his stomach with both hands.

And then, due to Brock's inattention, the stew caught on fire, and both Ash and Misty howled with laughter.

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**A/N: **I have a growing love for this ship. Not quite sure why, given I'm usually a staunch Ash & Misty shipper.

Naranne


	2. Chapter One

**Warning(s): **Slightly sensitive issues dealt with in this chapter, namely sexuality.

**Disclaimer: **If you recognise it, I'm willing to bet a lot of money that it doesn't belong to me. The plot bunny does, however.

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**Chapter One: Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed**

_by Naranne_

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The first time she had her heart broken, Misty was sixteen.

Brock had watched for years as the girl he viewed as a younger sister pined after Ash Ketchum, who was impossibly dense and unable to comprehend the changing dynamic in his and Misty's relationship. Time flew by, and suddenly Brock had grown out of his teen years, just as Ash and Misty were coming into the thick of them. Even with hormones running wild, Ash seemed to remain totally oblivious, and Brock wondered how he could be so blind as to ignore the beautiful young woman that Misty was rapidly becoming.

Misty had always been a sister to him, and Brock was determined that was the way it would stay – he was too old for her, and Misty was totally head over heels for Ash. Brock had not brought up the subject since that night three years ago, when Misty had confided to him the crush that he had suspected for a rather long time. She had never directly addressed the issue since then, either, but Brock had come to know when a word of comfort was needed, or when the irate red head just wanted someone to vent to.

The events of that bright, cheerful afternoon in Pallet Town were totally unpredicted and unprecedented at the time, but with the power of hindsight, Brock realised he should have seen the signs. As it were, he and Misty were visiting Ash in Pallet; they were staying for at least a few days, and after pleading with his mother, Ash had managed to put all three of them in the guest room together. Delia had left for the afternoon, explaining that she had put off the shopping until the last minute and had to dash off – Brock had listened with a patient ear, and then asked her what he could do to help. Which currently found the twenty-one year old in the kitchen, frilly apron donned and cleaning beside Mr Mime, humming to himself. Delia hadn't wanted to push chores on a guest, but Brock had laughed and insisted, saying that they were there so often that those rules hardly applied.

When he'd heard they were visiting, Tracey had rushed down from the lab to see them, and was currently talking with Misty in the lounge. The Pokémon watcher had spent some time with Brock before Misty had come back inside, and Brock was caught off guard when he realised that it was Daisy who had told Tracey they were there – somehow, he'd missed the memo that Tracey was dating one of Misty's sisters. What was more surprising was when the expected flare of jealousy didn't arrive, and Brock had supposed that he was growing up, no longer lusting wantonly after every attractive female he set eyes on. Naturally, this had not stopped him teasing Tracey rather mercilessly for a moment after he had found out.

A loud crunch interrupted Brock's reflections on the day so far, and he looked up to see Misty leaning against the counter opposite him, having apparently helped herself to an apple from the fruit bowl. He raised an eyebrow.

"Ash isn't going to eat them," she reasoned. Brock snorted, and she grinned mischievously.

"Has Tracey gone?" he asked, folding up the towel he'd been using to dry the bench and placing it neatly behind him. Mr Mime objected immediately, and moved it about ten centimetres to the left. Brock shook his head, laughing.

"Yeah, he said Professor Oak had some stuff for him to do back at the lab." Misty chuckled at Mr Mime's obsessiveness, and promptly choked on a piece of apple, sending her into a coughing fit. Brock grinned at his friend's expense, and she snapped in between coughs, "Not – funny –"

"Only if you aren't the one watching," he quipped, and ducked out of the way of her slap. Having recovered, Misty scowled at him. Brock only laughed in response, and she bit her lip, hiding a grin.

"Finished cleaning, miss?" Misty responded, eyeing his frilly apron.

Brock placed both hands on his hips. "I'll have you know that cleaning is a very manly activity."

Misty blinked at him, and then doubled over in laughter. Untying his apron, Brock grinned. "Shush, you." Instead of folding the apron up, he handed it over to a demanding Mr Mime, who apparently had decided Brock was not to be trusted to put things away in the correct place. "I – we, sorry, Mr Mime – have finished cleaning, actually. How about you go find Ash, and I'll see about some lunch for us, even if it is a little late."

She nodded, giving the remnants of her apple a derisive glance before walking out of the room. Brock chuckled, watching her go. The "kid" physique he had watched her grow out of had well and truly vanished – she was a young woman, now. Ash still called her scrawny, naturally, but these days it was more of a fond taunt than an insult with any impact.

Brock was immensely proud of how confident Misty was with her appearance – she still wore her hair in her signature ponytail, but she walked with a confidence that belied any of the doubt she used to have about whether or not she was attractive, and she had filled out, possessing the definite beginnings of womanly curves. The fast metabolism and large amount of exercise that had made her "scrawny" before now served to give her a toned, eye-catching figure. He wasn't sure how much she was aware of _just_ how attractive she was becoming; he'd seen more than one passer-by turn his head to get a second look, but Misty had never paid them any heed.

Brock shook his head, chasing those kinds of thoughts out of his head. He rooted around in the cupboards, pulling out bread and spreads – sandwiches would do, he thought. Delia had told him that she was going to make a fairly substantial meal that night, as Professor Oak and Tracey would also be joining them, and so Brock reasoned that a light lunch would suit just fine. The moment he reached into the fridge for margarine and some cold meat and vegetables, however, there was the sound of a loud, resounding slap from outside. Brock froze.

"What the hell, Misty?" That was Ash.

"He doesn't mean it – he means he's sorry –"

Brock was puzzled. That was Gary's voice – when had Gary got here?

"Shit. Misty, _wait_, I can explain –" Ash again, cut off by the sound of a slamming door and a stifled sob.

He emerged from the kitchen, intent on going outside and finding out what had happened – Ash and Misty hadn't had a serious fight in a long time, and he thought they'd grown out of it – when Misty burst inside, her cheeks flushed bright crimson and her eyes red and watery. Her expression was a mix of fury, hurt, and betrayal, but above all she looked lost and bewildered. Immediately, Brock went to her, concern and worry flaring up and a million different reasons for their fight flying through his head at lightning speed, each more ridiculous than the last.

"Misty, what –" She made an obvious effort to calm herself down, gritting her teeth and taking deep breaths, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Brock reached out a hand and rubbed her arm soothingly. _Ash must have done something terrible_, Brock thought, and then, unbidden, _How could he reduce her to this? Bastard_. He gave his head a quick shake, somewhat confused by the direction of his last thought, and tried again. "What happened this time?"

Misty looked at the ground. "He –" She sighed irritably, and swiped at the moisture leaking down her cheeks furiously. "He's not as dense as I thought he was."

Brock was confused – wouldn't that be a good thing? He was obviously way off the mark with whatever he had thought the reason for their fight was. "What do you mean?" he prompted gently, thinking furiously to try and work out just what Ash could have possibly done.

"I went outside, to – to tell him we were going to have lunch, and –" Her voice cracked, and she flicked a tear away. Something twisted in Brock's gut at the sight of her so distraught and confused. "He was outside, with… with Gary… dammit, Brock, how could I have been so stupid?"

"No, don't think like that." He sighed, looking at her with worry and sympathy and wishing she would look at him instead of the floor, so that he could at least read _something _in her eyes or her expression, other than the tears and the mess he saw that she was. "What'd he do, Misty? It's not just another stupid fight, or you wouldn't be this upset. One of you has said something."

Misty shook her head. "He didn't do anything to me, he just –" She broke off and bit her lip; to stop herself crying even more, Brock thought. "I'm never going to have a chance with him, okay? It was stupid, _I _was really stupid – just let me go, please."

"Misty, no. You're totally distraught, and I'm sure that's not true, okay? But I can't help if you don't tell me what's happened." Normally, after a fight, Brock would back away and wait until they both calmed down, but this was different; anger, he'd seen (plenty of it), fury, mallet-inducing rage, but not complete sadness and tears. It didn't look right on Misty, and Brock hated that he couldn't do anything to help.

She took a shaky, fortifying breath, and dragged her head up to meet his eyes. For a moment, he didn't think that she would say anything, and then she mumbled something so quietly that he caught nothing more than Ash's name. "Pardon?"

"_He's dating Gary_!" Misty snapped, and fresh tears burst forth before she could stop them.

Brock's stomach plummeted, and for a moment he didn't know if he'd heard her correctly. _Oh, shit. How did I not see it?_ Calling himself all kinds of stupid in his head for not picking up on the fact that one of his best friends wasn't straight, and probably went through hell coming to terms with it without telling either of them – or even knowing he could – he murmured,"Shit. Oh, Misty."

Suddenly, his arms were full of her, and she was crying into his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life, her arms locked around his waist in a death grip. He realised she was shaking, and rubbed soothing circles on her back, waiting for her to cry herself out and trying to work out what the hell he was going to do. Without thinking, he brought one of his hands up to stroke her hair, and Brock was slightly startled by how natural the gesture was. The touch seemed to calm her, and slowly her breathing evened out, her tears turning into sniffles.

He squeezed, and pulled away, watching her with wary eyes. "Go into the lounge, and I'll make you some hot chocolate and bring the tissues, okay?" She nodded, giving him a small, watery smile. "And then we can talk about it, if you want." He paused. "Or if you don't want, I'll put on a movie and we can talk about it later."

Misty smiled, and even though it was plain that she was still hurt and feeling a little bewildered, the smile was genuine and thawed out some of the unease Brock felt about the rift between she and Ash. "Thanks, Brock."

He watched her leave, and then set about making her that hot drink which always calmed her down – except he found some rich, milk chocolate in the cupboard and decided to spoil her, stirring it in alongside the drinking chocolate. Tissues were easy to find, although he hoped there would be no need for them past the obligatory sniffles and blowing of her nose. As he was heading into the lounge, steaming hot chocolate in one hand and tissues in the other, the door creaked open and Ash came in. Brock sighed, and put the mug and box of tissues down. Any stern words about not telling them, about surprising Misty, about hurting her, died on his tongue when he saw the expression on Ash's face.

"Where's Gary?"

Ash winced, and Brock immediately felt bad that those were the first words out of his mouth. "I told him I wanted to speak to you guys by myself." He scrubbed both hands through his hair, looking thoroughly dejected and remorseful. "I didn't want either of you to find out like that."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I told my mum first, and she didn't react quite as well as I hoped, and then I guess I thought it was better if I kept it to myself." Ash's voice was quiet, and Brock felt immediate sympathy for his friend, chasing away any anger he may have had that Ash hadn't trusted either of them with such a big part of his life. "I've known for a while."

Brock sighed and came to stand in front of his younger friend, calling on all the big brother skills he had learnt from dealing with not only his own siblings, but Ash and Misty as well. "I'm sorry, Ash," was all he said, but it was entirely heartfelt. He felt like a rotten friend for not having realised.

Ash looked confused. "For?"

"Not figuring it out myself. Some best friend I am, right?"

"You don't … mind?"

Brock had never seen Ash so hesitant about anything before. He smiled, hoping that he came off as accepting and reassuring. "Of course not. And neither does Misty – that's not why she's upset. Well, it is, but not for that reason."

"Is she okay?" He looked embarrassed. "We fight a lot, but you guys are my best friends. I feel awful."

Brock toyed with the idea for a bit, before deciding that the best course of action was the truth – if he waited for Misty to explain things herself, nothing would ever get patched up. The girl was too damn proud to confess, he knew. But at the same time, she would have to apologise eventually. Both of them would.

"You didn't hear it from me, okay?" Brock began, and Ash nodded, curious. "She's not angry that you're gay, or bi, whichever. I don't think she cares either way; you're still Ash, so it shouldn't matter. She's hurt that you didn't tell her, and she's hurt because to be honest, she's liked you for bloody ages."

Realisation dawned on Ash's face. "Oh. _Oh._ Right." He frowned, but it wasn't the same as earlier – Brock could see that he was bolstered by what he'd heard. The frown was more thoughtful than sad. "I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"I'm going to be blunt. Yes, you did." Ash's face fell. Soldiering on, Brock reasoned, "You didn't know how she felt; if it was just platonic, she probably would have gaped for a bit, and then teased you relentlessly because you were dating someone." Brock couldn't help himself grinning a little towards the end, and was relieved when Ash laughed.

"That'd be Misty," he agreed, and then sobered a little. "I should apologise."

"You both should, but for now she needs space."

Misty did not want to talk, so Brock handed her the mug of hot chocolate, set the box of tissues down beside her, and explained what Ash had said to him, anyway. She protested for a moment, but then realised that what he was saying was important. Her expression changed, and she looked slightly mollified – even slightly guilty. Anger gone, all that was left was shock, heartbreak, and a headache.

He rummaged around the Ketchum collection of DVDs until he found what he was looking for, and as the first notes of _Circle of Life_ burst from the speakers, Brock sat down beside her, careful not to dislodge either hot chocolate or tissues. Bolstered by her calmer demeanour, he decided that the next thing Misty could use was a healthy dose of laughter, and so, with an air of ignorance, he inquired, "Is ice-cream too cliché a comfort food for you, young lady?"

She swatted him playfully, and took a sip of her drink. "Defeats the purpose of hot chocolate. Shut up and let me get my cure-all Disney fix."

He attempted a mock bow and failed dismally, perhaps owing to the fact that he was still seated. "As you wish," Brock replied over the top of her small burst of laughter, buoyed that she seemed to be cheering up. She was still hurt, he knew, and it would take a while for her and Ash to patch up their friendship completely, but it was a start.

As it turned out, _The Lion King_ had been an excellent choice. The last few sniffles died off quickly, as Misty hummed along and echoed her favourite lines under her breath, the box of tissues lying forgotten. Forgotten, that was, until Mufasa died, and both of them cried. Misty had laughed, and Brock dabbed at his eyes with a tissue, not at all ashamed by the fact that he was just as affected by _The Lion King _at twenty one as he had been at twelve.

At some point during the movie, Misty had ended up curled against his side, tissues by now discarded on the floor. Brock was struck by how comfortable it felt, and just how pleasant Misty felt tucked up against him, his arm around her shoulder, the embrace providing comfort for both of them. Feeling the last of the tension drain from her shoulders, Brock forcibly told himself that she was his friend – his younger sister – and nothing more. He reminded himself that even if it felt great knowing that he had managed to cheer her up, and even if the warmth from where she was nestled against him was entirely too comforting, it was only because he really did care about her – in a loving, but completely platonic way.

Nonetheless, as Timon gaped at the fact that Simba was friends with Nala, and Nala wanted to eat Phumba, and _everyone was okay with this_, Brock rested his cheek on the crown of Misty's head, her giggle bringing a fond smile to his lips.

All was not yet right, but there were no longer any secrets between the three of them, and though he knew there was sure to be an uphill climb and their fair share of roundabouts, Brock could not help but think that things could – and would – only get better.

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**A/N:** The ending is completely lame, as are the chapter titles. I apologise profusely.

I'm enjoying this, though. Even though I should be working on other things. *sheepish*_  
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Naranne


	3. Chapter Two

**A/N:** This chapter is an absolutely monster, and getting past that first section is why it took me so long to write. _Hopefully_, the next chapter shan't be this troublesome.

Oh, cookies if you can tell me what the Easter Eggs are from. *g*

**Disclaimer: **Don't own, don't sue.

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**Chapter Two: Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful**

_by Naranne_

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The first time they danced together, Misty was seventeen.

It was Christmas, and that year it was the Waterflowers' turn to host the annual party. Anticipation was ripe as the days ticked down, and despite his twenty two years, Brock had joined in the gleeful countdown with his brothers and sisters. He was to arrive in Cerulean a week and a half before Christmas, earlier than anyone else; after much pleading on Misty's part, and faux resistance on his behalf, he had agreed to help organise the Gym _and_, more importantly, the food.

Walking up the road to Cerulean Gym, Brock was struck by a sudden sense of nostalgia, memories of his first unofficial visit to the Gym flashing through his mind – Ash's determination to win the Cascade Badge, and Misty's equally fierce determination to skip Cerulean City altogether, and finally, their rivalry fuelled battle. Cerulean Gym hadn't changed much over the years, despite the change in leadership – even when Misty's sisters had returned, the youngest Waterflower had asked to keep her position as Gym Leader. The Sensational Sisters had happily accepted, and the family was far more harmonious than before, Misty's older sisters having been completely awed by just how fabulous a water trainer their younger sister had become.

At Brock's knock, there was the sound of hurried feet and Daisy opened the door. "Misty's taking on a challenge from Johto right now," the blonde Waterflower explained with a smile as she let him inside. "If you like, hurry a bit, you can totally watch. I don't think they've finished yet."

Brock grinned. "That'd be great." He motioned to his pack, which had everything he would need (including a few recipe books) for the weeks he was staying there. "Where do I…?"

"I'll take it." Grabbing the bag from him, Daisy waved him on through to the remainder of the Gym, where the stadium and pokémon aquariums were. He smiled at her in thanks, made a jokingly flirtatious remark, and then beat a hasty retreat when she scowled at him.

Even if he hadn't known his way around Cerulean Gym as well as he did (although he had only been once or twice into the sprawling house that was connected to the Gym), Brock wouldn't have found it all that hard to reach the stadium – ignoring the signage to point challengers in the right direction, the sounds of heated battle were unmistakable. As he slipped into the stadium, he beamed with pride at the sight of Misty commanding Gyarados, totally in control and confident in her abilities.

Neither the Gym Leader nor her challenger, a brown haired teen with a strong voice but soft demeanour, noticed him as he quietly seated himself in the stands, watching the battle underway with an interested gaze. The challenger was strong, and Brock nodded to himself when he released an extraordinarily healthy and powerful looking typhlosion – a lot of care and effort had evidently been invested in the pokémon, and it was obvious the bond that trainer and pokémon shared. Despite the obvious type advantage Misty had, Brock was not so sure that it would be an easy win.

Brock found himself on the edge of his seat for the entire battle – it turned out that this was the challenger's last pokémon, and Gyarados was worn out from defeating his previous one. He could see Misty thinking furiously every time the typhlosion pulled off a manoeuvre that a pokémon of that size should not have been able to do, managed to dodge one of Gyarados' attacks, or landed a powerful hit on the dragon pokémon. The challenger fought cleverly, using barely any fire type moves and instead making use of moves such as slash and strength to overpower his opponent. Eventually, Gyarados and Typhlosion faced each other, snarling and panting. Both trainers ordered their pokémon at the same time – Typhlosion let loose a giant star of flame that was sure to finish Gyarados should it hit, and Gyarados dived underwater.

The challenger looked frustrated, and Misty grinned, before giving the final order. Before Typhlosion or its trainer could react, Gyarados launched itself from the pool, throwing the other pokémon high into the air. Brock let out a soft, low whistle through his teeth – a manoeuvre like that had only one possible outcome. Sure enough, just before Typhlosion hit the water, the challenger recalled his pokémon, a satisfied, if defeated expression on his face. As the official referee announced his defeat, Misty praised her gyarados on its efforts, before recalling the dragon and moving down off the Gym Leader's platform to shake the challenger's hand.

Brock stood, and applauded briefly. "Amazing battle!" he called.

Misty looked stunned, pausing mid-sentence. When she saw him, she smiled and waved, before turning back to the defeated trainer. As Brock approached, he introduced himself to the boy, who informed him that he'd come to Cerulean after beating Brock's brother, Forrest, in Pewter. "I didn't see all of the battle," Brock began, "but your typhlosion looks like it's in incredible condition."

The trainer beamed. "Thanks! I've had her since I started training, when she was just a cyndaquil."

"Not many fire types could come that close to beating Misty's gyarados," Brock informed him, glancing at Misty, who nodded her agreement. "It's easy to see that you've really bonded with that pokémon, and trained her very well."

Flushing slightly under Brock's praise, the teen thanked him and then said his farewells, promising to train and return to challenge Misty again. "I look forward to it!" Misty called, as the doors swung shut behind him. Brock watched the doors close, lost in nostalgia for a moment. Wandering in his memories, he was pleasantly surprised when Misty pulled him into a quick hug, which he returned clumsily, caught off balance.

When she pulled away, she laughed. "I wasn't expecting you for a while, yet. You're early."

He bowed jokingly. "Fashionably."

"We don't have to start setting up and preparing today, at any rate," she said over her shoulder, walking around the edge of the pool and flicking one of a series of switches. The two platforms sank into the floor, and the floating battling stages slid smoothly into gaps into the side. Brock raised an eyebrow, impressed. Catching his expression, Misty explained, "When I'm not battling, my sisters like to have the pool for practicing, or I'll let the smaller pokémon swim in here. It's too small for Gyarados, but perfect for Corsola and Horsea." She indicated another switch. "This one brings out the diving board."

Brock nodded to show his understanding. "Cerulean's gone tech-savvy," he remarked playfully. He could have sworn she muttered something like "at least we don't have invisible walls", but decided not to press the issue. As Brock opened his mouth to speak, however, an exasperated cry of, "_Mis_-ty!" sprang forth from behind the double doors.

Misty's eyes went wide. "Oops." She looked at Brock, then, and grinned. "I think Azurill's gotten into the kitchen again."

She sprinted for the door, ponytail bobbing comically, and as he laughed Brock realised he'd missed her far more than he'd care to admit.

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December twenty-forth had dawned crisp, bright and cheery, though the wind that stole through the door every time someone arrived bit through people's clothes and raised goose-bumps on carelessly bared arms.

The entire day – and the day before that, and the day before _that_ – had been spent in a frenzy of preparation, as Brock, the Waterflowers, and newly arrived Delia Ketchum slaved either in the kitchen, hoisting last minute decorations, or frantically answering calls about the Gym and whether it would remain open for Christmas. Privately, Brock was rather glad that although Misty complained about how _tedious_ it was ("I'm not complaining," she'd denied furiously. "I never complain. How am I complaining?"), she had been relegated to that last job, rather than helping in the kitchen. He had had only one slight brush with Misty's cooking, and it was not an experience he particularly cared to repeat.

Nevertheless, at four thirty in the afternoon, everything was finally done, and the realisation was accompanied by three identically shrill shrieks from Violet, Daisy, and Lily that _there was totally not enough time to get ready and oh god their hair, there was like, no way they could possibly be as presentable as possible in the time available –_

Brock had promptly tuned them out as all three had rushed away, and set to cleaning up the remnants of their extravagant cooking efforts, aided by Delia Ketchum, and provided with comic relief by a bored Misty. Ash and Tracey weren't arriving until later, nor were May and Drew; Brock was cleaning, Delia Ketchum was humming to herself and decidedly off with the fairies, and Misty didn't honestly need three whole hours to get dressed. Subsequently she was _bored_.

"You're complaining again," Brock pointed out, mid swipe of the bench. Reminding him ever so much of her Mr Mime, Delia quickly moved to clean a small smudge that he'd missed.

Misty sat down with a huff on one of the bar stools and propped her chin on her hand, leaning on the newly-cleaned bench. "How very out of character for me," she deadpanned.

Brock snorted.

Twenty minutes passed in much the same way, until Violet appeared, looking frazzled and with half her hair straight and piled on top of her head haphazardly, and the other half down and already curled. Her eyes flew comically wide when she saw Misty. "You – why are you down here?"

Misty looked wary. "Because it's only ten to five…?" she ventured.

Evidently, this answer was not good enough for Violet, who gasped and squealed, "But like, you should be getting _ready_!" With that, she latched onto her sister's arm and tugged. "We'll totally help, come _on_."

In response to the pleading look sent his way, Brock backpedalled and held up his hands in apology. _I am not getting in the middle of this_, he vowed silently. When he did nothing to stop her increasingly agitated elder sister, Misty scowled at him and allowed herself to be dragged away. Brock gulped. _She'll forgive me when she tastes the dinner_, he consoled himself. _I hope_.

"Not the way to go about charming a young lady," Delia said sagely from behind him. Brock jumped and nearly dropped his cloth. He gaped at Ash's mother, who had assumed an expression that all parents learn seemingly the instant they become one: _I know everything about you, and even if you object to what I've got to say, I will continue to believe that you're just young and everything will turn out the way I see it. I'm a parent and I'm always right._

"Don't know what you're talking about," he tried nonetheless, but the result was as he expected. Delia giggled and tapped the side of her nose with one finger. She didn't need to say the _yes, dear_ – he could see it written all over her face. Brock could feel a blush creeping up on him.

The doorbell rang, but Delia ploughed on. "My Ash was just the same," she said with a dreamy sigh.

Brock laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Briefly, the thought that that didn't quite gel with what Ash had told him about her reaction flared up, but was dismissed rather quickly and forcibly.

Saved from thinking of a response by a very familiar cry of "_Hello_? Anyone there?" Brock immediately brightened. "Speaking of Ash," he interjected, "that sounds like him right now!" He swiftly tucked the cleaning cloth away and backed out of the kitchen, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I'll just go see – bye, Mrs Ketchum!"

Before she could gather breath for a reply he _really_ did not want to hear regarding his attitude to Misty which she had _completely_ wrong, he nearly sprinted to the door, grinning at Ash as he opened it. "Hi, Ash!" he greeted enthusiastically. Behind him, he could distantly hear that Delia had resumed humming.

The boy in question returned his hello just as enthusiastically, and Pikachu launched himself from his trainer's shoulder to leap onto Brock. Deftly, he caught the pokémon and gave him an affectionate scratch behind the ear, before laughing at the way Pikachu scampered up to perch on top of his head and peer down at his trainer. "Your mother's in the kitchen, and Misty was whisked off by her sisters to get ready," Brock explained as he led Ash inside.

Ash laughed. "Already? It's only five!"

Pikachu, who had leapt off Brock's head and was darting about beside them, nodded and agreed.

"It's been a while since I've been here," Ash commented, looking around fondly at the brightly decorated rooms, hung with Christmas garlands and occasionally, mistletoe. Brock wondered who had pinned those particular twigs, and thought he had a fair idea. "I've visited her," he continued, "but not come past the Gym into the house. Never had time."

Ash and Misty had slowly patched up after the shock Misty had received in discovering that Ash was dating Gary, and it made Brock immensely happy to see that not only had the two of them become friends again, but had become closer than before – there was no longer the overhanging awkwardness derived from Misty's unrequited crush. Which was not to say they no longer fought; Brock thought the sun would implode sooner than the two teenagers would reach a permanently peaceable friendship.

They meandered into the remainder of the house, and after Ash had seen his mother and stowed his bag in the guest room with Brock's – he would be staying a few days, but hadn't been able to reach Cerulean earlier – he reverted to form and tugged Brock in the direction of the Gym. "You said Misty's being tormented by her sisters, so let's go see the pokémon; it's only just past five, we don't need to get dressed _yet_…"

Brock shook his head and laughed – sixteen year old Ash Ketchum was still no different from ten year old Ash Ketchum, when it came right down to it. Trying to see one of his best friends? She was busy. Helping his mother? She didn't look like she needed help. pokémon? Far more logical.

As it turned out, the Gym's pokémon were happy to see the both of them – a number of the pokémon remembered them, and called to them friendlily – and it was a long while before either Brock or Ash thought to check the time. When he did Brock swore loudly, startling Horsea slightly, who squirted water at him in retaliation. Ash snorted and teased him for it, but Brock overrode him with the fact that it was now nearly six thirty, and the remainder of the guests would be arriving in half an hour. Ash grimaced. "Oops."

Brock rolled his eyes. "Yes, 'oops' – we need to clean up."

As they hurried back through the corridors of the aquariums to the house, Ash muttered, "Gary'll be wondering where I am."

"Never mind Gary," Brock countered. "Misty's been at the mercy of her sisters since four thirty, and we haven't pulled her out. She'll be livid."

Ash visibly paled. "Full speed ahead, then!"

With that, he broke into a run, only to stumble, trip and nearly fall, his arms flailing wildly. Unable to help himself, Brock burst into laughter, and Ash tried and failed dismally to hide his grin behind a scowl.

"She'll be doubly mad if there's none of you left to yell at," Brock pointed out, in response to which Ash, having righted himself, shoved him playfully and proceeded to make a point of walking quickly but sedately the remainder of the way back to the house.

* * *

With the remainder of the guests due to arrive at seven, there was a certain amount of rushing involved in the tugging on of neater clothes, gelling of hair, fixing cuffs and washing faces, so much so that first Brock buttoned up the wrong way ("I hate getting dressed in a hurry, _damn it_."), and Ash squirted cologne in his eye ("At least my face will smell nice!"). Delia hovered at the door, looking splendid in her party attire but looking harried at the potential for being late.

"I'm fine, we're fine, we're not going to be late." Ash kept up a steady stream of reassurances over his shoulder to his nervous mother, who seemed as if she was barely restraining herself from taking over and dressing her son herself.

When they were done, Delia breathed a sigh of relief and brightened. "Wait until you see Misty, both of you," she trilled.

Choosing to ignore that comment (but his curiousity nonetheless piqued), Brock cleared his throat and said, "You look lovely, Mrs Ketchum."

Which she did – her hair was tied back in a neat bun, and she had donned a simple, but pretty black dress. She could have been going to an evening function, except for the two large Christmas baubles that dangled from her ears. Delia smiled. "Thank-you, Brock." She paused, and looked at her son, who was drying the hem of his trousers; he had somehow managed to get water _there_ instead of on his face-washer. "See, Ash, why can't you compliment your mother like that?"

"Because my mother should know that I think she looks lovely all the time anyway," Ash retorted.

She smiled, and then sobered, adopting the automatic parent expression reserved for a potentially late child. "For people who are staying at the hosts' house, you're going to be awfully late. Off you go!"

Obediently, they rushed into the main part of the house – the party would make use of the larger rooms of the house, as well as part of the Gym, which had been closed for a few days. Daisy was the first to spot them, and marched over in her impossibly high, sparkling heels, demanding to know where they'd been. When Brock opened his mouth to speak, she held up a finger as if to warn him not to say anything (he had just been going to compliment her and not flirt, because really, she looked fairly great, but he guessed she knew that), and turned to Ash instead.

As Ash explained where the time had gone whilst they had been playing with the Gym's pokémon, Brock glanced around at the people filing in, hoping to spot his family. He saw Professor Oak and waved, relieved. Where there was Oak, there was Tracey, who better than anyone else would be able to diffuse the wrath of Daisy. "Hey, Tracey!" he called, cutting Daisy off mid rant about how they were close friends of the hosts and should be extremely punctual. Daisy brightened immediately, patted her intricately coiled blonde hair, straightened her short, strapless dress and gave them a warning look, before going to her boyfriend with a winning smile in place.

Ash laughed. "Thanks, Brock."

It was half an hour before everyone was there – Brock's family had been one of the first few to arrive, and he had led his smaller brothers and sisters towards the snacks table, where his parents had both laughed and admonished him for giving in. He'd grinned, and said that it was Christmas – if they couldn't have sweets at Christmas, when _else_ could they? Gary had arrived soon after, and Ash had left Brock with his parents, submitting with a laugh to a forceful hug and a peck on the cheek. Brock laughed, and wished that their ten year old selves could see them now. Though he scanned the crowd for her, Misty was nowhere to be seen, and he trampled on the disappointment with polite conversation with his parents.

A bell ringing startled him mid conversation, and as his mother laughed at his jumpiness, he turned to the source of the noise and saw the three elder Waterflowers calling for the attention of the crowd. Brock blinked. Never ones to back down from a chance to flaunt what they clearly had, the three sisters were dressed in different vibrant shades of … exactly the same dress, which did not leave much to the imagination. It was strapless, with a fitted, heart shaped bodice; black tulle contrasted sharply with the overlying material, even as it flared the skirt out around their hips. Their words flew over his head as he gaped at how much of a rainbow the picture made really was – hot pink with blonde hair, bright, sky blue with pink, and vivid green with blue. He shook his head. Even their _hair_ was styled exactly the same way. Maybe now he could understand why they had panicked at four thirty, exclaiming there simply wasn't enough time to get ready.

Actually, scratch that, he _still_ couldn't.

"… so thank-you all for coming and we hope you have a great night! _Merry Christmas_!"

The guests cheered, and then dispersed, chatting amongst themselves. Brock found himself talking to Professor Oak, who still managed to look like an eccentric pokémon Professor, even in crisp dinner attire. Delia's arrival made Brock a little nervous, but the shy glances that kept being cast between Ash's mother and the Professor soon assured Brock that there would be no awkward assumptions and questions about Misty, who, really, was just his little sister, honestly, she was nothing more than a friend to him, even if she _was _very pretty and could most definitely no longer be called a 'kid', and if he sometimes caught himself looking at her more than was necessary, well, then, there was a perfectly reasonable explanation—

"There you are!" exclaimed a voice from behind him, bringing him out of his thoughts with a sharp crack. "Hi, Professor, hi, Mrs Ketchum," the voice continued, all too familiar for what he had been allowing himself to think. Brock turned, and the friendly _hey, Misty_, died on his lips.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him quizzically, and he quickly realised he must look rather awed – he certainly felt rather awed. Whilst Brock had known that Misty was certainly pretty, and no longer the scrawny girl she had been for so long, there was no denying that right now, she was absolutely stunning. Her hair, usually casually scraped into her trademark side ponytail, had been let down and curled softly, and her bangs, instead of sticking out haphazardly, framed her face gently. He cleared his throat, and tried again. "Hey, Misty." _You look gorgeous_.

Misty blushed slightly. "Thanks, Brock."

He blanched. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yes, yes you did," Misty laughed, smiling at him. "Food?" she asked, nodding her head in the direction of the tables. "I forgot to have lunch, and I'm starved."

He nodded, and let her lead him away, the fabric of her simple, yet elegant dress making a soft, whispering sound as she walked. It was a halter neck and colourless, a contrasting white and black, yet with her vibrant hair and eyes she still was colourful and dazzling – her hair was a splash of red upon the wide swath of white running down the dress's middle, and simple blue earrings set off her eyes and stood out against the two flowing stripes of black which nestled on either side of the white.

"Ash helped me choose it."

"Pardon?" Brock asked, feeling slightly awkward at how she'd caught him staring.

Fortunately, she laughed, even if there was a hint of a teasing expression hanging around. "The dress, I mean."

"It's very nice. Very elegant."

"Thanks." She paused, and snorted. "But don't tell Ash that. Don't want to swell his ego."

Brock laughed. "Try these, they're great," he supplied, pointing to a plate filled with small pastizzis. He was about to open his mouth to tell her not to eat too much, when she grabbed two, and stuffed the large part of one into her mouth. He smirked. "Very ladylike."

She swatted him with the hand that wasn't holding her food, and he chuckled, dodging. Marvelling at the picture she made, he found himself repeating a mantra inside his head. _Little sister. She's just a friend. Little sister. Just a friend. Just a little sister. _With a small sigh, he followed her example and helped himself to a pastizzi, the rumble in his stomach reminding him that she was not the only one who hadn't eaten for a while.

A comfortable silence descended, a small bubble of peace and quiet amongst the loud chatter of the remainder of the guests, despite the conflicting nature of his thoughts.

She dusted her hands off with no regard for mess, eyeing the remainder of the pastizzis, and he raised an eyebrow. "There's a fantastic little invention known as a serviette," he informed her patronisingly, pressing one into her free hand. His thumb inadvertently brushed the back of her knuckles, and he swallowed. Misty stuck her tongue out at him, catching a stray crumb lingering around her mouth, and he quickly looked away.

_You're five years too old for her_, he reminded himself forcibly. _Don't even think about it._

_

* * *

_

Misty was unequivocally the star of the night, and her sisters beamed with undisguised pride at how many comments on her beauty their little sister acquired. It seemed, however, that this was all a little lost on her – she acted just the same as ever (slightly toned down for the reason that it was Christmas), and joined in the childish glee of anyone present under twenty five that it was finally _Christmas_. Gary gave her an extravagant impression of a bewildered gentleman, bowing and kissing her hand and making she and Ash keel over with laughter, Delia and Professor Oak smiled and complimented her gently, and May gushed over her dress while Drew stood by and looked bored.

Dinner was a huge hit, and Brock and Delia patted each other on the back extensively; afterward, music began to play and a space was cleared for a dance floor, and people watched out of the corner of their eyes to see who – if anyone – would be the first to be caught under the mistletoe. As it turned out, it was Ash and Gary, and Gary took a rather large amount of comical delight in bending his boyfriend backward in an exaggerated romantic kiss, drawing cat calls and wolf whistles from the others. Professor Oak merely rolled his eyes and laughed at his grandson's antics.

The next unfortunate pair were May and Drew, and Brock was relieved that barely anybody saw that – it was widely known that they had been dancing around each other for a _very_ long time, but he didn't think May would have been able to stand the added embarrassment. As it were, Drew kissed her swiftly on the lips and then walked away, a grin firmly in place. May blushed furiously and stared after him, before disappearing back into the crowd, totally embarrassed. Brock laughed and shook his head, smiling to himself.

Brock found himself drawn onto the dance-floor despite his reservations, but soon enjoyed himself – he danced with his mother, with Daisy, with Delia and May, growing more confident each song that passed, before he withdrew to the sidelines to quench his thirst and simply watch for a while. He looked up when he heard someone sitting beside him, and was surprised to see Gary Oak, and was especially surprised to see him without Ash – they had been inseparable all night.

"Punch?" he offered, filling a glass and holding it out.

Gary smiled and accepted. "Thanks."

As he took a sip, Brock asked out of genuine curiousity, "Where's Ash?"

"Dancing," Gary laughed.

Brock grinned. "Seems like a disaster waiting to happen."

"That's what I thought, so I gave him a few lessons."

Despite himself, Brock was a little surprised, not only by the fact that Gary was a good dancer, but that Ash was willing to admit to a fault enough to allow Gary to teach him. He chuckled. "You two certainly make a dynamic pair. If anything, you're worse than you were as rivals."

Gary smiled wickedly. "I'm not sure you meant it as a compliment, but thank-you."

They lapsed into silence for a moment, each of them drinking their punch and content to simply sit there and watch the contained mayhem that was the dance-floor. Brock noticed with a somewhat proud smile that Ash and Misty were now dancing together, laughing and talking and looking for the world as if the incident the previous year had never happened. Ash had gone through a growth spurt, and now stood a few inches taller than Misty; however, Misty was in heels, and the difference in height was almost negligible. Nonetheless, Ash attempted to spin her out and back in again, grinning; Misty laughed when she nearly tripped and actually gave Ash a small high five when they managed to pull it off, Ash twirling her back towards him and tipping her backwards slightly.

"It's great to see them friends again," Gary murmured from beside him. "Ash was really upset when she stopped talking to him for those two weeks."

Brock made a non-verbal sound of agreement. "Misty didn't take it so well either."

"It shows how good friends they really are, though, that they've moved on from it so well. And she's certainly something," Gary added.

"Oh?"

"If I wasn't dating Ash…" the teen mused, and Brock nearly choked on his punch. Gary grinned. "Not interested in girls. I was only joking. That's not to say she doesn't look bloody terrific." He gave Brock a sly look. "You're a lucky guy."

"No, we're not –" Brock quickly cut in.

"Never said you were," Gary assured him airily, although his expression was decidedly mischievous. Brock bit back a scowl, and opted for a dry laugh instead.

"If you'll excuse me," he said politely, and handed Gary his punch. As he made his way to the dance-floor, Brock swore he could feel Gary's grinning expression boring into his back.

Ash and Misty were twirling in the centre of a throng of dancers, and Brock determinedly excused himself time and again as he made his way over to the pair. Neither of them saw him, and Brock cleared his throat, tapping Ash on the shoulder. "May I?"

Ash jumped, startled by the contact. Brock snorted, and Misty didn't bother to hide her giggle behind a hand. However, Ash laughed when he saw who had interrupted, and smiled. "Sure." He bowed slightly to Misty, who rolled her eyes and gave him an affectionate, light hit on the side of the head.

"Gary looks a bit lonely over there," Misty teased, and Ash grinned and mock saluted, letting go of her hand to make his way back through the crowd to his boyfriend.

"Not too worn out from all that dancing?" Brock asked playfully as he pulled her towards him, resting one hand on her waist. The fabric of her dress was soft and light under his fingers.

"One benefit of running a water Gym is all the swimming I have to do," she reminded him. "I'll be fine."

Laughing a little, he took her hand in his free one, and began to lead her around, neither of them speaking. The lack of chatter or small talk wasn't awkward, and Brock revelled in the kind of quiet peace that he was beginning to find only really came with Misty (despite how it seemed occasionally that silence was rather contrary to her nature), where they were both so comfortable around each other that there was no real need for words to fill the space. Nor was it uncomfortable having her this close to him, despite Mrs Ketchum and Gary and the highly inconvenient, not very effectively squashed thoughts that flicked through his head.

Instead, Brock smiled at her and tried to ignore how perfectly her hand fit with his larger, rougher one, or what the perfume her sisters had no doubt forced on her smelt like, or the feel of her hand comfortably resting on his shoulder. Or, indeed, the large diamante clasp underneath her bosom that lit up the entire dress, but simultaneously seemed to tauntingly draw his eyes away from safe territory. However, as they danced, sometimes passing a comment or two on this person or that, or giggling at the antics of one of their friends off to the side, he began to realise that although Misty was especially radiant right then and there, even when she was slouched in her ordinary Gym clothes, whining about the lacklustre effort of the latest challenger, she outshone any other girl in the room.

Misty must have noticed the fall in his expression, for her smile faltered and she inquired, "You alright?" He quickly assured her that he was perfectly fine, and her smile returned with a twist of a mischievous smirk. "You didn't eat too much, now, did you? Hey, after warning _me _not to stuff my face?"

A slim finger prodded his stomach, and he quickly grabbed her hand before she could repeat herself, only to have her abandon all hints and light up with a fully mischievous expression, and poke him with her other hand. He laughed in protest, and forcibly returned her hands to where they were meant to be. "I don't think those are the exact words I used," he quipped, and twirled her fast enough that it immediately forestalled her reply.

Several more songs went by, and at one point Ash and Gary had comically taken to the floor, and Misty had quickly muttered that they couldn't let the two of them outdo she and Brock. For the few songs the impromptu contest lasted, the other guests gave the four of them a wide berth, as both pairs tried to consistently outdo the other. Eventually, all four were ridden with giggles and somewhat out of breath, and they called a tenuous peace, vowing to continue at some later point – once they had gotten their breath back. Inevitably, Ash proposed a battle instead, which Misty readily agreed to, and it was all Brock and Gary could do not to burst into fresh laughter at how highly competitive the two of them still were, even at sixteen and seventeen.

When the song changed to a slower, more intimate piece, floating through the air towards them, Brock was quick to say, "We don't have to dance to this one, if you want."

Misty seemed to mull it over for a moment, before smiling (was that a hint of shyness? Or was he imagining things?) and replying, "No, it's alright. We can."

Although she had replied with confidence, there was an edge of tentativeness to the way she placed her arms about his neck and stepped that little bit closer, and, going for diplomacy, Brock resisted the rather strong urge to wind his arms about her and bring her even closer, and instead merely rested his hands on either side of her waist. Silence reigned for a moment, as couples filtered onto the dance-floor (Daisy winked at him, and Ash and Gary were conspicuous in their absence), and then Misty muttered something under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"I said, if you step on my toes, you're done for."

Brock laughed, glancing down at their feet before raising an eyebrow at her. "Those heels look lethal, Misty. If anyone has something to worry about, it's _me_."

"Blame my sisters," Misty protested, and then grinned very contagiously.

"Blame Napoleon, actually," Brock pointed out, and they both laughed.

Silence reigned for a moment between them, the air filled with the slow strains of music, the murmurs of other dancers and, in the background, the excited chatter of children at Christmas. When Misty stepped closer – being nicely careful of his feet, he thought briefly with a certain amount of detachment – and rested her head on his shoulder, very little space between them at all, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Brock supposed that it should have been even a little bit awkward or even unexpected, but somehow it wasn't as he brought his arms around her in what he realised was nearly a full embrace. Her hair tickled his neck, and he could feel her breath on his shoulder.

Wondering if he dared risk pressing a kiss to her cheek and attempting to pass it off as platonic affection – which he thought would be rather hard, given the circumstances – Brock had only one thought.

_I'm done for_.

* * *

**A/N: **I hate the first part of this chapter, namely because it took me so long to write. The rest I am mildly fond of.

I swear I listened to_ Forbidden Friendship_ from the How to Train Your Dragon soundtrack (John Powell) about fifty times whilst I was writing this. _So pretty_.

Naranne

(Edited for typos. I also now have _Let it Snow_ stuck in my head.)


End file.
